Closure
by CSIGurlie07
Summary: If there was one good thing that came out of 113 repeated years, this was it. Spoilers for Season 4 up to "Untouchable". Rated T for language. Intended three-shot. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I know, I know, it's not Stargate or NCIS, and thus shouldn't be posted until I finish one of the others. But it refused to leave me alone, so I had to get it out of my system. It'll be a short little three-shot, don't worry. Nothing epic. :)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>When Addison had gone and Erica comfortable in Henry's arms, Will was surprised to find that Magnus had disappeared. He checked her office, the infirmary, even the Shoe, in case she was getting contemplative over their newest, non-consenting guest. He knew she didn't really like the idea of the Sanctuary being a prison—it was a slippery slope, and they both knew it.<p>

But she wasn't anywhere he could think of. Her study was empty, Biggie hadn't seen her, and her lab was dark. On a whim, he even checked the old chapel, in case she'd had the urge to… pray, or something. Meditate.

As soon as the thought occurred to him, he felt like smacking himself upside the head. _Of course_.

Magnus didn't meditate in the chapel. No… she went _up_ for that. He took the stairs to the roof two at a time, suddenly sure that this was where she was. And true enough, he opened the door to find Magnus perched on the parapet, looking out over the wide expanse of the City stretching out in front of her.

For the past month, he'd been ribbing her for hanging out on a mountain somewhere, getting her inner peace on. And more than once he'd pointed out that she must've gone crazy, for a woman who could barely stand to take a long weekend every seven years.

But looking at her now, with her heavy features and burdened shoulders, he realized it hadn't been quite so simple.

There were layers to the situation, more than he could ever fathom; just like Magnus herself. She'd never had any qualms about admitting her mistakes—and it'd never been secret that she considered quite a few of her decisions to be wrong in the long run.

Which meant she'd had to sit on her hands for 113 years, letting herself make all the same mistakes, every wrong decision she wished she could change, all for the sake of preserving the timeline. It must've gotten to her.

And it had. He could read it in her eyes, when she turned to look at him.

"Will…" Her voice was strained—almost shaking. Her eyes were bright, and he knew that he'd interrupted… _something_.

"Hey," he returned softly. "You okay?"

Her gaze dropped, but her head nodded minutely. "Fine."

Setting himself down on the parapet next to her, he looked out over the city with false interest. His focus remained on the quiet woman beside him.

"It's weird being home, isn't it?" he asked carefully.

To be honest, he was still trying to wrap his brain around it. She'd only been missing for a few hours his time. But she'd spent more than a century years in seclusion. Now she was home, trying to pick up where she'd left off, despite the decades between.

Magnus huffed lightly, her breath misting in the cool night air. Her eyes lifted to search the stars, sparkling in the pale light of the moon. "More than I thought it'd be," she admitted reluctantly. "Everything's the same, and yet—" She sighed. at the same time—everything's changed."

Will wasn't sure what to say. What could he say? Countless clichés ran through his mind—_time heals all wounds, time flies when having fun, all in due time_… But none were even close to appropriate. In the end, he settled for sliding a discreet arm around her, maneuvering him closer to where she sat.

He didn't miss the way she stiffened under his touch, or the way her breath hitched ever so slightly. But instead of pulling away, he scooted even closer towards her, until her hand pressed against the side of his chest, keeping him away.

"This is terribly inappropriate, Will," she hedged nervously, taking it upon herself to maintain the distance between them.

But Will stubbornly refused to relinquish his grip, and his arm remained across her shoulders.

"Yeah," he agreed lightly, looking at her sideways, "maybe." His head tilted to the side in mock concession. "It might be, if—you know— this was a normal workplace, and you were a normal boss, and I was a normal employee." He paused for dramatic effect. "And if, of course, you hadn't just spent the past century or so isolated from everyone and everything you knew…"

She didn't say anything, but her shoulders tightened even more, betraying the truth of his words.

"When was the last time you let someone do this?" he asked, looking at her profile, which stared passively out across the view. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm guessing it's been, what? A hundred and thirteen years and some change?"

Her head bowed, exhaling heavily. A long moment passed, and then, finally, her head bent to rest against his shoulder. It was as if a dam had been broken—all of a sudden he could feel the chill of unspeakable loneliness, the burden of guilt.

It was all hers, though she didn't say a word.

_Damn it._

Will hated time.

It messed with his head, even if he didn't try to figure it out. And if he _did _think too hard about it, it threatened to make his explode. He didn't know how it worked, and just the months he'd spent in Carentan with her had done a number on him.

He couldn't even fathom a century of it.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that alone, Magnus." Nobody should have had to go through that, period. But the fact of the matter was, she was the only person on the planet who could do so, and survive to tell the tale.

What amazed him the most was that she had survived relatively whole. He knew the effect isolation had on the psyche. It left people neurotic, paranoid—hallucinating. There was a reason it was used as a method of interrogation, and also as punishment.

It made him wonder, if maybe…

"I wasn't alone," she whispered, her voice shaking.

Will blinked, mildly surprised that she had somehow followed his internal musings. "What do you mean?"

"James kept detailed records of the happenings across the globe. Whether it was Sanctuary business or not, he made a note of it as best he could," she explained, her head still leaning back against him. Only her fidgeting fingers betrayed her anxiousness. "And then once every ten years, he personally delivered his journals to me, let me read them."

"So you could know for sure nothing had changed," Will supplied. Magnus nodded. "And did anything change?"

She sniffed, clearing her voice of the emotion that had thickened it at the mention of her oldest friend. Will's heart went out to her—in the end, she'd lost Watson twice. He wondered if she'd known the exact date, and realized that her friend would no longer come to visit.

"It's impossible that something hasn't changed. Unless, of course, our own timeline was already affected."

"_Already_ affected…?" Will groaned with a shake of his head. "This is going to give me headache, isn't it?"

"Think about it, Will," she said, straightening and turning to face him. He recognized the spark in her eye—she was in teacher mode. "I had to wait 113 years for me to enter Adam's portal before I could return to the Sanctuary. It puts our world into a continuous loop, and therefore it is entirely likely I was not the first Helen Magnus to travel back in time. Which means that the world _I_ knew, the one I was trying to preserve, might have already had been affected by a Helen Magnus lurking in seclusion, as I was."

Will considered it for a moment, then nodded very slowly… he wasn't sure he understood completely. "I suppose that makes sense. Kind of…"

Her gaze fell to her lap, where her hands twisted themselves worriedly. He noticed the motion for what it was—113 years had done a number on her ability to hide her emotions, it seemed. She had something to tell him, and she wasn't sure how he would handle it.

He immediately braced himself, dead set on _not _reacting like he had when she'd told him the truth about Adam. Whatever it was, she didn't need judgment—she needed support. She needed a friend, when for a century she hadn't had anything more than once-a-decade visits from James Watson.

"I have a confession to make, Will." Her voice was husky with nervous energy, uncertain guilt clouding her features. But he let her continue, knowing better than to interrupt. "The closer I got to the end, to the point when I could return, I— I wasn't exactly as… isolated as I should have been."

For a long moment, the only sound heard was the whisper of wind scraping across the rooftop.

"By then—" Her voice caught painfully, but she powered through it. "By then even the smallest changes I might have made in 1898 would have had massive repercussions, and… I kept thinking of everything that might have gone wrong since James' last visit—"

She sucked in a deep, steadying breath.

"I had to be sure."

Will swallowed thickly. He wasn't sure what was coming, but her pain was tangible, and he could feel it as sharply as if it was his own.

"So you checked up on us," he guessed softly. "You made sure things were right." When she nodded, he nodded back. "And they were?"

For the first time, he wondered whether this really was the future she had waited for. If _he_ was the same person she had known. Indescribable relief flooded him when her head bobbed in affirmation.

"That's good… right?"

A choked sob escaped her, sounding almost like a cough—but he knew better. Tears gleamed down her cheeks in the moonlight, and her shoulders trembled. Her hair fell across her features, hiding her from his view, but her anguish filled the air with a palpable tension.

"I saw her, Will," she whispered. "I shouldn't have, I know that. I do, I just—I couldn't suffer all that loneliness and not see her one last time, and…" Her fingers clenched into fists in her lap. "I wanted to save her, Will. I came so close to just sweeping her up and spiriting her away, and I—"

She cut herself abruptly, as though ashamed of her weakness. He didn't know what she expected him to say—blow up, probably, spouting the virtues of the time-space continuum. But there was no way in hell he could ever fault her for this.

"Magnus…"

His arm snaked around her again, and this time she turned into him willingly. Her arms wrapped around him, embracing him with a strangled, wordless moan. Her chin rested over his shoulder, and when he heard a sniff issue from somewhere below his ear, his heart broke for her.

His eyes closed, as though it might shut out the trembling of her shoulders or her shuddering breaths. It didn't.

"Why?" he asked softly. "Why do that to yourself?"

She pulled away, and he was suddenly afraid he'd said the wrong thing. "I needed to. I needed closure—I had to say good-bye. I never got a chance, and when it fell into my lap I—I just couldn't—"

"You're right," he said, desperate to ease the anguish that poured from her in waves. He put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. "I get it, I'm sorry. It's just—"

He wasn't used to seeing her hurt so much. And to see her so vulnerable… it unnerved him. But he couldn't tell her that, and he had no idea what to say that wouldn't sound false in the face of so much emotion.

"I left the country," she continued, her voice husky—flat. "When the time came, I— I couldn't be close. Not then. I couldn't watch it happen again…"

"I know. It's okay, Magnus…" He took her hand, covering it with his. "The important thing is that it helped you." He looked her in the eye. "Did it?"

There was a long beat of silence, and then her eyes closed. Her head nodded slowly, and peace stole over her features. She exhaled gently. "I think it did."

"Good," Will deemed. When she didn't meet his gaze, he ducked his head. "Look at me."

Blue eyes tracked to his, and he held them unwaveringly.

"If there is _one_ good thing that came out of all this, then you hold onto that. Forget _everything_ else, you hear me? Hold onto that one good thing."

She didn't respond for a long minute. But just when he thought she might burst into tears, her features softened, and her lips curled into a tremulous smile. Her hand—chilled, but welcome—cupped his jaw, and she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. It affection was tender, and when she pulled back her eyes glowed with warmth instead of tears.

"I missed you too, Will."

The confession was, and before he had a chance to respond, she continued.

"Come to my office later," she instructed him firmly. "I have a gift for you."

His intrigue was instantly sparked, but before he could ask any questions she was gone, gliding away with her mask of zen in place, only this time, the zen didn't seem forced. This time, her peace was an honest one.

Her smile was small but clear, devoid of the mysticism that had plagued it for the past month. Maybe it was because she had lightened her burden just that slightest bit, or maybe because she was able to share the truth of that peace to one person whose opinion she cared about.

Will didn't know. He honestly didn't care.

All that mattered was that she'd smiled at all.


	2. Chapter 2

_Damn that rat bastard._

Ashley fumed silently, but in the refreshing chill of the breeze sweeping across the rooftop, her better sense quickly cooled her temper. Of course, it came in the form of her mother's voice in her head, reminding her that she shouldn't have gone after the damn sewer lizard by herself in the first place.

Hiking her leg up onto the balustrade in front of her, she eyeballed the scrape along her shin with a hiss of displeasure. The pain was mild—the blow to her pride stung a whole lot more. And she was sore on top of everything else. Now, instead of working her frustration out on a helpless punching bag when she got home, she was moping on a rooftop on the edge of Old City.

It was a habit she'd picked up from her mom. The infamous Helen Magnus had always used the roof as her thinking tree. Something about perspective, and peace, or something. But where her mom preferred the roof of her own Sanctuary, Ashley had found a rooftop all her own to perch on. This one had been discovered the night of her fifteenth birthday.

It was easily accessible—to anyone with a lockpick and a healthy disregard for the term 'after hours'—and was tall enough to spread both Old and New City out in front of her like painted landscape. By now she knew exactly which gargoyles could hold her weight, so when she really wanted a thrill, she would climb out onto one and let her legs dangle.

But not tonight. Tonight she was taking it easy, and letting her pride heal. Besides, knowing her luck tonight, her mom might end up scraping her off the pavement if she tried.

She felt the presence approach from behind a split second before she heard a light scuff of shoe against stone, and reflex had her gun out and swinging around before she even fully processed it. But as soon as her eyes focused the tall figure lurking in the shadows, she froze.

"Mom?"

The figure stepped into the patch of moonlight spreading across the stonework, and blue eyes locked on Ashley with in a wide-eyed stare.

"Ashley…"

Her mom's voice was soft, but tight—there was an undercurrent of _something_ not quite right that disappeared a moment later when slender hands lifted first supplies in Ashley's direction.

"I thought you might need these…" A sculpted brow lifted in question. "May I?"

Ashley blinked, lowering her weapon. "Uh—yeah," she breathed in surprise. "Sure… How did you know—?"

She'd called to check in almost half an hour ago, just to let her mom know that she was all right; she hadn't bothered to reveal her location, and her mom hadn't bothered to ask. They were far beyond that by now. Her mom trusted her to not do anything _too _stupid.

Her mom settled herself gracefully on the stone next to her— Ashley couldn't help but notice that there was more distance between them than was typical. It struck her as odd; her mom liked to be physically close to her patients when playing doctor. It imbued trust, or whatever.

Sure fingers began their ministrations, daubing disinfectant on her scrapes, but the small smirk on her mom's lips told Ashley that there was really no point in asking how the woman knew.

How did Helen Magnus know anything? She just _did._ Ashley had long suspected some form of osmosis. Or maybe a crystal ball. Or maybe her gift of long life had given her some kind of power of omniscience.

"I can always tell when you've hurt yourself," came the gentle response. "Even over the telephone. And as for your location, well… this is your favorite rooftop, is it not?"

In the end Ashley simply offered an answering smirk. The face across from her lit up in response, as it so often did in moments like these—when it was just the two of them—only to darken a moment later as sharp eyes turned back to the light bandage that was being applied to the worst of her scratches.

When her mom's fingers moved on to cleaning the cut on her cheek, Ashley saw the tightened lips and the bright eyes—not sharp-bright, like when she was trying to figure something out. They were wet-bright, like she'd gotten something in her eye. And the little wrinkle in the skin of her forehead was a dead giveaway. Something was bothering her.

"Mom… what's the matter?" she asked.

Pristinely groomed eyebrows lifted in surprise, erasing the little furrow, and a hollow smile tried to put her at ease—it didn't.

"Nothing's the matter," she was told in a light voice, as an alcohol wipe stung her broken skin. "Everything's fine."

Yeah. _Right_.

Ashley reached up and tugged on her mom's wrists, halting their tender care. "Come on, Mom. If you're mad at me for going after that Abnormal alone, just say so. I know you told me not to, and trust me, I've learned my lesson. Well… this time, anyway—"

A cool hand framed her face, silencing her. She looked up into warm eyes that sparkled in the pale light of the stars, and this time, her mom's smile was sweet and adoring.

Ashley swallowed nervously. She wasn't exactly sure where this was going, but she did know her mom hadn't looked at her like that since she was twelve.

"I'm not here to scold you, sweetheart."

Sometimes, Ashley still wished she had her mom's accent. The desire was strongest at times like these, when her mom's voice seemed to float, and threatened to float Ashley right along with it. And this time, it also assured her that there really wasn't a scolding in her future. This tone could never be faked.

But in the time it took her to appreciate her mom's gentle, lilting voice, Ashley slowly realized that she wasn't the only taking the time to soak in the moment. Blue eyes moved minutely, taking in every inch of her features, searching her gaze—and doing so with an intensity that took Ashley off guard.

It was as if… as if her mom was studying her, trying to memorize her.

"Mom…?"

"Oh, my baby girl…"

They spoke simultaneously, only Ashley didn't think her mom meant to say hers out loud. For a long moment they stared at one another, each taken aback. This time, it was Ashley who did the studying. She stared at her mother with a careful gaze, looking for discrepancies.

She looked like Helen Magnus, she sounded like Helen Magnus—heck, she even _felt_ like Helen Magnus. But something didn't quite click. This nearly tangible aloofness was something different, as was the almost melancholy set of her features, familiar though they were. And there was an earnest edge to her too, one that Ashley could barely comprehend, coming from her mother.

A gust of wind swept between them, catching a section of Ashley's hair and pulling it over her eyes. Before she could rake it back from her face, a gentle touch smoothed the strands away, tucking them behind her ear once more.

A warm hand cupped her cheek, pulling Ashley's attention back to her mother, who was still staring at her with a sweet smile. The back of her mom's long fingers stroked her cheek, tracing her brow, ever so gently. But then she blinked, and seemed to wake up a little.

Slender shoulders straightened as her mom pulled back, and her hands fell to her lap, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles out of her dark skirt.

"Mom?"

"To be perfectly honest with you, Ashley, I do have an ulterior motive in coming here to meet you tonight."

Ashley swallowed nervously. "Yeah?"

"I wanted to speak with you—outside the Sanctuary."

"Oookay…"

Her mom's lips curl into a small smile. "It's been a while since we've had a moment to ourselves—just the two of us… Hasn't it?"

Ashley chewed her lip nervously. It had been, compared to how it used to be. When she was a kid, most weekends were spent together, going out to explore the city or traveling on mini-vacations that allowed Ashley to see more of the world than most other people could even dream of. But it hadn't mattered where they were, because with her mom there, that was all that mattered.

In the past few years, the tradition had fallen away as Ashley had gotten older. Ashley had started having her own life, doing things on her own, and her mom had let her go, allowing Sanctuary business to bleed into the weekend hours.

But if she were honest with herself, Ashley missed those days. With just the two of them together, they had been close, and trust had been reciprocal and immutable. These days though, with all of the things that seemed to go wrong, Ashley wondered if maybe her mom was starting to lose faith in her. Her condition tonight certainly didn't help matters.

And without their private little outings, they rarely had a chance to speak without someone listening in, so the truth of what her mother thought of her remained a mystery.

"Yeah, well…" she hemmed carefully, feigning nonchalance. "You've been busy training Will, and with this new Cabal thing that's come up—"

She trailed off when she saw her mom tense suddenly. It was subtle—just a tightening of the jaw, a hardening of the eye. But the way she went deathly still made a chill run up Ashley's spine.

She stared for a long moment, unable to say anything. Eventually, her mom shook herself out of it.

"Are you sure you're not mad at me?" she asked carefully.

Her mom's gaze warmed instantly. "No, sweetheart, I'm not upset with you."

"Are you sure? 'Cause I'd totally understand if you were…" At this point, she might even prefer it. She knew how to handle a angry mother. This… eeriness, though—not so much.

"Ashley… I know I can react a bit harshly at times—"

"A bit?" The snipe slipped out before she could help herself. Luckily, a smile was her mom's only reaction.

"And I do so because every day I wonder if I've done right by you." Her mom continued as though she hadn't interrupted. "You deserve so much more than this."

Ashley blinked. "So much more than what?" she asked. "Because it doesn't get much better than this..." She waved towards the City spread out below them.

"Ashley…"

"I love my life, Mom," she stated bluntly. There was no apology, no wavering. She had no regrets. Her mom certainly shouldn't.

"I know you do, darling. But none of that means a thing when I know that you are at risk every time you set a foot outside the front door," her mother returned, her voice wavering almost imperceptibly. "I scold your impulsiveness and your brash behavior because I constantly worry that you'll come home injured, or broken… or worse."

Her voice hitched, cracking under the weight of the emotion that threatened to swallow her whole. Ashley watched her mother's throat work silently, trying to get her voice back. This time, it was Ashley who reached out, taking her mom's hand in a comforting grip.

"Mom… I'm sorry—"

"Don't you dare you apologize." The hard edge her accented had taken on left Ashley speechless. The hand she held tightened, gripping her firmly. "Don't you dare. Not for any of it."

"But—"

"No, Ashley. You are a strong, independent, willful child. But for all your recklessness I can still sleep at night because I know that at the end of the day, no matter what, you will always do the right thing."

Ashley stared, wide-eyed and numb. Her mouth hung slightly open, and closed only when a finger tapped her chin before hands framed her face once more.

"You are my daughter," her mom continued, her eyes gleaming with tears. "And I am so very proud of you. I always have been." Lips curled into a smile. "I know I don't say it enough…"

Her voice trailed off, and Ashley took the opportunity to swallow her shock and crack a strained smile. "Probably a good thing," she joked. "Don't think I'd be able to handle it if you did…"

Her mother huffed out a laugh—surprised at first, but then more naturally as mirth washed over them. Ashley joined in, leaning against her mom affectionately as the somber mood dissolved into giggles. After their laughter died out, her mom closed up her kit, but before she could get to her feet, Ashley caught her by the hand.

"Stay?" she asked, her voice soft. "Just for a little while?"

There was probably a mountain of work waiting for the interminable Helen Magnus, but for some inexplicable reason, Ashley didn't want to say goodbye to her just yet. It was the first time she'd had any visitors on her rooftop, and she'd always sworn it would be ruined if she ever did hare it, but she wanted to share it now.

For a long moment, it looked like her mom might refuse—her lips pressed into a hesitant line, and her gaze tracked nervously behind her watch and the door that led back down to street level. But when her eyes caught Ashley's, her features softened into pleased—_or was it guilty?_—acquiescence.

"Of course," came the lilting response.

Long legs lifted and swung over the balustrade, until they were sitting side by side. They stared out at the cityscape spread out below them, their fingers intertwined. But as the minute ticked by, Ashley melted against her mother, until their sides were flush and Ashley let her head rest on the strong shoulder that was at _just_ the right height. Her arm somehow found its way around her mom's waist, and her mom returned the embrace by wrapping her in the gentlest of one-armed hugs.

Ashley felt a cheek rest against the top of her head, and though not a word was said, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Her mom rarely got this way around her. Not the touchy-feely stuff—her mom was naturally tactile, especially with her, with a pet here and a kiss there.

But _this_… this sadness that just seemed so bone-deep it seemed a natural part of her— that was new.

Sure, sometimes she got a little melancholy after she had a long talk with Uncle James, catching up on old—_old—_times. But that was expected, and usually wore off as soon as the wine did. And sometimes a bad mission got under her skin… but she was always so careful to not let Ashley see it. Ashley knew it, and had let her keep up the pretense.

It was unnerving to see it now, and to see how completely it consumed her.

And the way she held Ashley now- with a touch so light, it was like she thought Ashley would break. It was almost reverent, the care she had taken with the scrapes and bruises that normally would have barely given second glance.

"I love you, Mom."

It came from nowhere, and was entirely too mushy, but as soon as it was out there, Ashley didn't regret saying it. She didn't do it enough, she decided, when her mom squeezed her about the shoulders, pressing a kiss to her hair.

A long, shuddering breath filled her, and then…

"And I love you," came the response, whispered and shaky. "With all of my heart."

Tears burned in the corners of Ashley's eyes, and her throat tightened at the heartfelt expression of love. She tried to ignore the heavy tears that fell into her hair from above, or the way her mother's body trembled with the effort to not break down completely.

But when Ashley eventually pulled away reluctantly, she sniffled away the brimming tears with a crooked smile. "I bet the Big Guy's wetting his fur wondering where we must have gone, huh?"

Her mom's lips curled upwards, but it was barely a shadow of its usual brilliance. "As far as anyone else knows, I never left the Sanctuary."

Weird… Why would her mom bother hiding an outing from the others? The woman in question stood before she could get around to asking. She rose to her feet as well, joining her mother on the broad expanse of stone between the railing and the door.

"It's getting late," her mom said, her tone cool and professional once more. "And I have matters to tend to…"

She turned to leave, but Ashley still didn't want to see her go. "Mom…"

Her mom paused, then turned back and crossed the short distance between them. Her hands cupped her cheeks—still… that reverence—and tired features lit in a smile. Blue eyes pinned her for a long moment, until finally she spoke.

"Ashley… You have grown into a fearless, beautiful young woman. I worry about you because I am your mother, not because you need it."

Ashley swallowed thickly against the tears that threatened to resurface.

"You are my daughter, my heart and my soul… and I will love you until the end of my days."

Ashley sucked in a painful breath. "Mom…"

"And no matter what happens, I will always be with you… _Always_."

Ashley swallowed again. Tears poured from her eyes, and she didn't bother to wipe them away. But as soon as her mom had finished speaking, a peace stole over her. Relief eased the tension that had gripped her since she'd ventured out onto the roof with Ashley, and she now looked more like the woman Ashley was so familiar with.

"Now, remember," he mom continued. "This is still your rooftop. It is still _your_ secret to keep, should you wish to keep it."

Ashley blinked and nodded, shaken. "Okay."

Her mom looked at he for a moment longer, the kissed her forehead. "I love you."

Ashley hugged her mom around the waist, gripping her firmly as her mother returned the embrace with a tight one of her own when they finally parted, Ashley swiped at her eyes.

"I'll see you at home, then…."

Her mom paused, hesitantly meeting her gaze. A tight, false smile curled her lips, even as her head bobbed in a non-answer.

"Stay safe, sweetheart."

And then she was gone, melting into the shadows with an ease Ashley still admired. When she was alone once more, Ashley felt the chill of the wind more keenly in the absence of her mother's unwavering strength.

Or was it really so unwavering?

She thought maybe tonight, for the first time, she'd seen it flagging. She hadn't been weak, exactly— but rather vulnerable, in a way she'd never been allowed to see her before. It allowed her to see a different side to Helen Magus than she'd ever seen before. All her life, she'd thought she'd been the one person to see all of the different sides to her mother. Apparently, she'd been wrong.

How many more Helen Manuses might be lurking in the fathomless depths of her mother's soul?

All of a sudden, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. This one had been tender, but the loss that had been so carefully etched into her features spoke of something darker than she was ready to know about.

She took her time returning home, first letting the scene play over and over again in her head. But when she finally entered a sleeping Sanctuary, she soon discovered she was not the only one still awake.

"Ashley!" Her mother's sharp, familiar voice made her freeze. "Where on Earth have you been?"

Ashley blinked. "Huh?"

Her mother stalked closer, her eyes quickly scanning her. When she saw the bandaged cuts and scrapes, her eyes narrowed in displeasure.

"You went after the Abnormal in the sewers, didn't you?"

Long fingers inspected her more closely, and Ashley couldn't help but notice that it was markedly different from what it'd been on the rooftop. The contrast was jarring.

"But… you said—"

"I told you to wait! I had my reasons for not adding this Abnormal to the mission list, Ashley. It's in the middle of its mating cycle, and far too dangerous to risk attempting a capture. But if you had listened and waited then we would have only had to wait two weeks for it begin hibernating. _Two weeks_, and then it would have been meek as a lamb!"

"Mom, I—"

"_This_," her mother continued furiously, waving towards her injuries, "was completely avoidable."

Ashley opened her mouth, ready to fire back with a snipe of her own, to throw their conversation on the roof back in her face. But at the last moment, she hesitated.

_This is __**your**__ secret to keep…_

She took one deep breath, then another. In the end she could only give a tight smile.

"You're right," she delivered softly. "I should've gotten more information before I went charging in. Guess I learned my lesson, huh?"

Immediately, her tone made her mother pause. Her eyes narrowed and softened all at once, and then her gaze passed over her more carefully, searching for anything she might have missed the first time. Ashley didn't usually relinquish a fight so easily, and no doubt her mother thought there must be something _really_ wrong with her. But when nothing was found, and Ashley gave no other hints, a second battle was surrendered before it could even start. Her mother tilted her head, and then sighed.

"Is there any other injury that needs tending?" When Ashley shook her head no, her mother's head nodded towards the staircase. "To bed, then. There's a staff meeting early tomorrow morning, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember."

Her mother nodded curtly. "Good. Off you go."

Ashley went without protest, her mind swirling. How could her mother be so soft and vulnerable and… well, _bare_ on the rooftop, but then turn around and bite her head off as soon as they were both at home And besides that, she couldn't help but feel something deeper was at play. The discontinuity was glaring, like a bad 90s movie, but at the same time she couldn't figure it out.

Obviously, the mother she'd spoken to on the roof was not the same mother she'd spoken to just now. But… how could that even happen? Which Helen Magnus was the right one? Her gut trusted the one who'd come _this_ _close_ to grounding her, because that was the mother she'd expected to come home to. But the more she thought about it, the more she questioned it.

The Helen Magnus on the roof had been distinctly honest, almost painfully so. And the raw vulnerability gave her little room to doubt. So where did that leave her?

She thought about it all night, and all through the meeting the next morning—which she sat tiredly through, offering one-word grunts of affirmation when called upon—and all through the week. No answers came, however, and as time passed the issue faded into theories of shape-shifters and vision-distorting telepaths. But the one thing she did know for sure was that the woman—or hallucination or doppelganger or whatever—on the roof had known something Ashley didn't.

What that something was remained a mystery for months, even though their conversation played over and over and over in her mind like a broke record. At times it was even a source of comfort, whenever her mother became particularly disciplinarian.

_I constantly worry that you'll come home injured, or broken… or worse._

_I am so very proud of you. I always have been._

_I will love you until the end of my days._

_I know that at the end of the day, no matter what, you will always do the right thing._

She didn't understand—not until almost a year later, when she was staring at her sobbing mother through a red haze of rage and destruction. Her body was a marionette, guided by commands that weren't her own and it wasn't until an explosion seared into her consciousness that her vision cleared.

The next moment she was the only thing standing between a monster and her mother. But deep down in her heart, she knew that she was a monster too. She was unspeakably changed, manipulated and altered to serve a darker purpose.

And it wouldn't be long before she lost hold once more, and her body was strung along in some sick parody of her likeness.

_I know that at the end of the day, no matter what, you will always do the right thing._

Ashley looked at her mother through her own eyes for the last time, and suddenly, it all made sense. That nagging, hidden knowledge that had set the woman on the roof apart from the woman she'd come home to. It was this. This was what had left that other Helen Magnus with the bone-aching hurt.

It was her. She'd been lost

That was what had broken her mother's heart.

"Ashley, please…"

_...Mom?_

She wondered if there was an afterlife. If she'd be able to visit her mom from time to time. But it wouldn't really matter. Cause she'd be gone for the right reasons. For no better reason. Her mom would survive. And her mom would love her until the end of her innumerable days.

That's all that mattered.

_And no matter what happens, I will always be with you… _

She saw the horror dawn in her mother's eyes. She felt her own expression harden with resolve, the decision made.

And as her life blinked into the ether, a single word echoed in her soul.

_Always._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Don't worry. Not a trick, just a treat! ;) Happy Halloween!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>"Oh, good, Will, you're here."<p>

Magnus got to her feet as soon as he stepped into her office. For once, she wasn't buried in paperwork, scribbling away at her desk. Instead he had found her relaxing on one of the narrow couches in her office, casually pose with a well-worn novel lying open in her lap.

Now that he could see her in the light—as opposed to the shadows that had hidden her on the roof—he could see her with an unbiased gaze. She was… healthy. Happy. Relaxed and rejuvenated—which was strange to say, considering she was 113 years older than she'd been a month ago.

As she crossed the room to meet him, he noticed a lightness in her step that spoke to her inner peace.  
>It was like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and the difference it made was incredible. Her features creased into a broad smile, and he couldn't help but return it with one of his own.<p>

She took him by the hand and pulled him back towards the couch. When she pulled him down to sit next to her, he didn't put up a fight. As soon as he was settled, she retrieved a wide book from the table in front of them. She presented it to him without any sort of flourish whatsoever.

"For you," she said, her voice soft.

He took it, lifting the cover open. "What is it?" he asked, before he even really looked at it.

She smiled lightly. "A little project I've been working on…"

A non-answer if he'd ever heard one, but instead of calling her on it, he obeyed the implied instruction in her voice. He turned his attention to the gift, and lifted the blank first page.

It was a photo album.

But not just any photo album. Each page was artfully decorated with four, sometimes five pictures. Each picture was labeled with a location and a date, carefully scribed in flowing script. But it was the subject of each picture that took his breath away.

His mom.

The book started with pictures of her hugely pregnant, pregnant with him, the dates mere weeks before his birthday. They showed her walking down the street, sitting in the park, shopping for baby supplies. Then, as the he delved farther into the book, he saw more people creep into the pictures.

First and foremost—he was there. As an infant, then as he grew into a toddler, into his fives, sixes, sevens… Holding his mom's hand, being held in her arms, chasing each other on the playground.

Sometimes his Dad was there, but not often. The man had always traveled, even when Will was growing up. It had always been just him and his mom, and that fact was clearly evidenced in the dozens of photos that had found a home on the expansive pages inside the album.

All of the pictures were taken at a discreet distance, using long angle lenses and the technology of the time, which meant none of them were so perfect as what they could get nowadays.

But it didn't matter.

He could see the love in his mom's eyes whenever she looked at him, the joy in her smile as she laughed at whatever antics he'd been up to. And looking at the pictures of them, he could see the adoration in his own eyes.

And he never strayed far. Even in the pictures where he was obviously daydreaming, he remained close to his mom. They were two of a kind.

His mom had loved taking pictures. There were albums still in the back of his closet filled to the brim with pictures. But those pictures were all of him. By himself, with his mother behind the camera. He had only a couple of pictures of her, staged and posed and capturing nothing more than a shallow likeness of the mother he'd adored.

He looked at Magnus in surprise, speechless. She'd settled back against the cushions, happy enough to watch him investigate each page at his own pace, a smile playing on her lips.

"Magnus…" he breathed, speechless. His jaw worked, struggling to put together something more than a few vowels. "This—this is…"

Amazing. Wonderful. Unspeakably thoughtful.

All words that were horribly insufficient.

"I took liberty, I know," she said lightly, straightening slightly. "I hope you don't mind."

"_Mind?_ Jesus… I don't even know what to say…"

Her eyes sparkled. "You don't have to say anything," she assured him. "I'd noticed on several occasions that you didn't have many pictures of your mother."

His eyebrows lifted in helpless affirmation. "You're right. I don't."

"I couldn't change her fate, Will. No more than I could change Ashley's." He could hear the regret in her voice, the way her tone softened, deepened. As though she were apologizing for something she had no business apologizing for. "But I could change the way you remember her."

He nodded solemnly, his eyes falling back to the book that still lay open in his lap. His fingers trailed over the images, tracing the lines of his mom's face.

"Magnus…"

A warm hand covered his, a thumb rubbing gently across the back of his hand. She gave a comforting squeeze, reassuring him.

"She loved you very much, Will."

His throat tightened, and his eyes stung with sudden tears. For a long moment he remained absolutely still, not trusting himself to speak, blink, or even breathe. But then the next instant he surged towards her, wrapping her in an embrace that pulled her close.

He'd surprised her; he could tell from the she remained stiff for a brief moment. But then she relaxed, and wrapped her arms around him in return. He sucked in first one breath, then another, trying not to lose it completely.

"Thank you…"

For all his effort, his voice was still strangled with emotion, but he knew she wouldn't judge him for it. Of all people, she would understand. And she did.

She hugged him firmly, squeezing him lightly in support.

"It was my honor," she whispered back.

He hadn't done anything to earn this. He didn't deserve it. And he certainly didn't deserve a boss as phenomenal as Helen Magnus. No one else on earth would have done this for him, and not just because no one else on earth would have survived a repeated 113 years. But no one else would have thought of giving him a gift such as this.

Only Helen Magnus.

He'd doubted some of her decisions in the past. He'd openly criticized her, reacted off the cuff on situations he'd barely known anything about. But whenever he actually stopped to think, he remembered that no matter the eventual ramifications, she always made her decisions with the best of intentions.

Because, in the end, she had to make the decision that let her sleep at night. That was what the album was. It was her way of making amends— for not being able to change his life, to give his mother back to him in living form. That was why she'd given him this album.

So that she could live with the fact that she'd failed to save his mother twice.

So that she could live with herself for allowing her daughter to die. Twice.

"I'm sorry, Magnus." _For everything._

She sighed against him, and she nuzzled him slightly as though she were ready to pull away. But in the end she simply hugged him closer.

"As am I," she whispered. This time, her voice was strong. She'd cried all her tears. "As am I."


End file.
